Sod the fumigated thoughts
that were meant to be
reflected upon.
My original attention couldn't
be spayed upon, like it was
cockroaches of originality.
I'll crawl upon every blank lyric,
that seeds every page with my
worded heart beat.
Never can my words be confided
to the delusions of others
repetitive replications.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 3:04 PM UTC
Sod the fumigated thoughts
that were meant to be
reflected upon.
My original attention couldn't
be spayed upon, like it was
cockroaches of originality.
I'll crawl upon every blank lyric,
that seeds every page with my
worded heart beat.
Never can my words be confided
to the delusions of others
repetitive replications.
